


Sanctuary

by the_reason_im_here



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, IgNoct, M/M, Slow Burn, no one is actually hurt dont worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_reason_im_here/pseuds/the_reason_im_here
Summary: There has been something like magic flowing between the Prince of Lucis and his Royal Advisor, something made from the ebb and flow of learning every movement, anticipating every word of the other. It's fabricated with loyalty, duty, respect, and love.Love.They never talk about it, of course, but an order from King Regis to attend the New Years festivities may bring it to their attention.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So this is rated M but only for one (1) particularly gruesome scene. No one actually dies! Also, I put "canon related" in the tags because I have no idea where this fits in the timeline. All I know is that Noctis is 20 and Ignis is 22. I have no idea how it got this long. I had an idea and it really just got away from me. With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

            The enemy is fast approaching. Five are flanking Noctis on either side. He is alone. It is up to him whether he will win or lose. In one move, he takes out two of the enemy but now he has put himself in closer range of three more. Using the last bit of stamina, he is able to defeat the five enemies on this side, but he is growing weak. He knows he is getting tired and making him vulnerable. Ten more points. All he needs is ten more points and he can beat his high score in  _King’s Knight -Wrath of the Dark Dragon-_.

            Two more of these low-level enemies and he has it. He rests his character, building up his stamina. One quick switch of the left control and the title is his. He makes the move. Will he hit the enemy? As the sword of his character lands on the armor of the enemy, a loud ringing comes from his right pocket.

 

           “Damn!”

 

           He just needs these two enemies but the buzzing in his pocket is so distracting. The enemy is down, four remain, but he only needs one. Just one more. With a shift of the game stick and a few conscience, memorized button mashes, he has made the new high score and the title “Winner” belongs to him. Dopamine and adrenaline rise through his body as he tries to go higher and higher, the numbering rolling past his original intent. Just as he is about to pass level 67, the piercing noise of his phone distracts him again. He huffs, satisfied enough with his score, taking his hands off of the game to answer his phone.

 

           “What are you doing?”

 

           “At the arcade,” Noctis replies, leaning against the machine with a screen now reading “YOU HAVE DIED” in a deep red.

 

           “I called twice,” the voice is not accusing, more curious.

 

           “Sorry, Iggy. Was beating my high score in King’s Knight.”

 

           “I see,” there is the sound of shuffling over the line.

 

            “So… what’s up?”

 

            “I have just been informed that we will be going into the city tonight.”

 

            “Downtown? Why? Who told you that?”

 

            “Your father, the King,” Ignis replies dryly. “He believes it would be an excellent opportunity for you to have the same experiences as the more common people of Lucis.”

 

            “Yeah? And what do you think?” Noctis asks, beginning to walk out of the arcade.

 

            “I agree. By the end of tonight’s New Year’s festivities, you should have a greater understanding of what the people like, what they don’t like, and the things they say when they think no one is listening.”

 

            “Almost sounds like we’re spies.”

 

            “We will certainly do our best to stay as incognito as possible.”

 

            “Exciting.”

 

            “I am on my way to the arcade to pick you up. We will discuss it more in the car if you would like.”

 

            “Yeah. I think I have a few questions. See you when you get here.”

 

            After Noctis hangs up, he moves to the front of the arcade and leans against a wall as he waits for Ignis. As he’s about to open a game, he receives a text. The name reads “Prom” with a gun emoji next to it.

 

_                             yo Noct. got any plans tonight? _

            Noctis sighs. He wishes he didn’t but…

_                             Yea, sorry. Dad says I have to go do something tonight. _

_                             oh? princely business? or can you not tell ; ) _

_                             Royal duties of his Highness Prince Noctis…. Unfortunately _

_                             Awwww : ( sorry dude. good luck tho! _

_                             Thnx _

 

            A few minutes pass after the text conversation before Ignis pulls up next to the arcade in a sleek black car. He gets in and inhales the consistent smell of leather. 

 

            “Hey, Iggy.”

 

           “Hello, Noct. Ready to go home?”

 

           “Not really,” Noctis replies in a strained tone. Going back to the Citadel meant going back to being the Prince, to concerning himself with political tensions and false niceties. “But do I have much of a choice?”

 

           “I suppose not,” Ignis replies, pulling the car out of the arcade parking lot.

 

           “So about this whole New Year’s thing,” Noctis starts.

 

           “Yes?” Ignis asks, raising an eyebrow and quickly looking at Noctis.

 

           “Who all is going?” He asks as he leans the passenger seat back a bit.

            “Just you and I. Your father specifically asked for such.”

 

           Noctis hums and puts his hands behind his head as he lies back. Noctis is least surprised by this news. It’s always Ignis because Ignis always knows best and always tries his best to keep Noctis in line and paying attention. 

 

           “When are we going?”

 

           “We will leave at nine tonight. It should give you ample time to do what you have been asked to do.”

 

           Noctis releases a sharp exhale. “What should I wear?”

 

           “Your normal attire should suffice.”

 

            Noctis nods a bit in response.

 

          “And what, exactly, have I been asked to do?”

 

          “’Live as though you are a citizen. Mingle. Observe. Take note of how the people act and their dispositions and attitudes towards certain topics.’ Your father’s words.”

 

          “What an exciting way to spend New Year’s,” Noctis says sarcastically.

 

            His ever-official father. Not even a hint of “have fun” or “enjoy yourself.” With him, it’s always business. Always waiting for Noctis to be ready for the throne, to take his place as King. Noctis can’t remember the last time his father ever told him to have fun or to grant him permission to do something he enjoyed. He doubts his father would ever grant such a thing.

 

            “He means only the best,” Ignis defends.

 

           “He means only what he  _ thinks  _ is the best,” Noctis retorts.

 

            Ignis releases a small sigh as they approach the Citadel. He is aware of the tension between Noctis and Regis. To be quite honest, it’s rather blatant. Unfortunately, he understands both sides since he often the one seeing both sides the most and in tandem. Regis wants his son to be ready to be King during turmoil while Noctis feels the unrelenting pressure of being on the edge of a war. It’s a hard place for them both, and stressful for all of them. 

 

            “I will see you tonight, nine o’clock,” is the only thing Ignis can say next before Noctis is out of the car.

 

           “Yes, sir,” Noctis replies dully, closing the door.

  
  
  


            Four hours later, he’s in the car again, vaguely dreading the night ahead, much preferring the idea of sleeping or hanging out with Prompto.

            “Come now. Don’t look so disappointed,” Ignis teases from the driver’s seat.

 

        “Not disappointed. Just not excited, either.”

 

Ignis frowns slightly, as much as he can while keeping his usually calm demeanor. This outing really wouldn’t be all that bad if the Prince could pretend to be a bit more cheery.

 

            “Perhaps it will be more exciting than you anticipate.”

 

            “Doubtful.”

 

            “Certainly not with that attitude.”

 

            That brings a small chuckle from Noctis which in turn makes Ignis smile. Perfect. One step closer. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

            They pull up as close to the heart of the festivities as possible. Without parking in the plaza and with all parking near it almost taken, it seems that they will be walking a bit. Of course, this makes Noctis groan.

 

            “You need the exercise,” Ignis retorts.

 

            “Should I feel insulted?” Noctis says mockingly as he closes the car door.

 

            “Nonsense. We all need exercise,” Ignis replies unflinchingly, locking the car.

 

            “Not Gladio,” Noctis continues the banter, a small smile forming on his face.

 

“If he continues to eat those cup noodles at the rate he is, he will need it more than you.”

 

            The banter continues like this for the rest of their walk and all the way until they get into the heart of the center. So far everything is going smooth and no one recognizes them yet. Noctis is wearing a hat and a puffy, sleeveless jacket that all but hides his physique and Ignis has decided to wear a button up with a few buttons undone and no hair gel. Once they are sure they aren’t recognizable if one doesn’t look too close, Ignis decides it is time to start the real mission: pretend like they are normal citizens. 

 

            The first thing that Ignis suggests is trying the food. It’s not surprising to hear the suggestion coming from what could be a world-renowned chef and not knowing what else to suggest, Noctis complies. They search around for something for a while, nudging their way through the massive crowd to both of their annoyances, and, eventually, a heavenly smell makes its way to their noses. Following the direction of said gods-send, they come across a street food vendor selling Semur Skewers and immediately buy two them. They are delicious. There really simply isn’t anything else Noctis could say about them. The meat is tender enough to melt but it still has enough chew to where he really felt like he was eating something. The taste was sweet yet spicy and it all melded together very well. Giving Ignis his tomatoes made the skewer even better. However, after both of them buy two more, the chewing begins to be more difficult and he has to admit to Ignis that he is feeling a little parched. 

 

            “What shall we have to drink then?” Ignis asks, taking the last bite off of his skewer. 

 

            The burning in his mouth begs him for anything that isn’t just plain water. Searching around, the only things his eyes can see are signs of Kenny Crow with Jetty’s mineral water and many more signs advertising a multitude of alcohols. Kenny Crow and his massive head and vice-like feathery arms with his bottle of sparkling water saying “CAW kids, it’s Kenny the Crow!” is certainly out of the question. The mere thought makes Noctis shiver. 

 

            “What if we grabbed a beer or something?” Noctis asks, glancing sideways at Ignis, not quite sure of what the response will be but braving to pitch the question anyway. 

 

Ignis looks at him questioningly while tossing away their skewers. “I thought you didn’t enjoy such things.”

 

            Noctis shrugs. It’s true he isn’t much of a drinker but his choices are slim and maybe a few beers will help get this night moving on a bit faster. 

 

            “I heard it’s good to wash down spicy things,” he replies nonchalantly. 

 

            Ignis nods, pushing his glasses up as he looks around. “There isn’t enough of the equalizing agent in beer to do much of anything. Milk would be much better at that.” Ignis pauses and looks at Noctis with a wry smile. “I don’t suppose they have milk around here, do they?” 

 

            “My guess is on ‘no’,” Noctis replies, pretending to look around for the liquid. 

 

            “I suppose we could have one drink then,” Ignis says slowly after thinking for a moment and Noctis’ face lights up. The plan is working.  

 

            “Besides,” Ignis adds. “Isn’t the goal to live as an ordinary citizen?”

 

            Noctis chuckles as he hurries towards the nearest stall. 

 

            For Ignis, even though they are technical on official business, they are both of age and as long as neither of them consume an abhorrent amount of alcohol and stay aware of their surroundings, it should be alright. Not to mention that they’re both very stressed and Ignis is not opposed to having just a bit of fun in between the long and brutal hours of work they- and specifically he- must do for the kingdom.  

 

            Ignis finishes his imported beer long before Noctis finishes his, but the prince isn’t too far behind, choosing instead to get an ale and finding it much more pleasant to consume than any other beer-esque beverage he’s had previously. Once the burn subsides, they walk around the plaza, finding a large selection of games and prizes to be won from them. Even at a New year’s festival, Noctis cannot stop his absolute need to beat high scores on games and, when high scores are not available, to be the games entirely. Ignis patiently watches as Noctis plays, and wins, almost every game at the festival, making sure to pull him out every once and awhile to do what they are actually here for: listen. 

 

            They take some seats at a table that is almost in the middle of the crowd and wait. They sip on their ales and wait until someone starts talking about something relevant to the ever-changing politics of Eos. It almost kills Noctis. “Patience is virtue,” Ignis always says and “reward will come with time” but how much time? _How much time?_ H is brain is practically screaming as he twitches his foot and downs his ale when Ignis catches his eye. It’s nothing in particular that catches him really. Ignis has his head turned away from Noctis, scanning the crowd, no doubt eavesdropping for anything of importance. He looks so much younger with his hair is down- a real rarity- and shirt unbuttoned. It’s a strange sight to see Ignis Scientia so… casual. It’s refreshing and a very handsome look. Not that he doesn’t look handsome all the time- all of his friends are really great looking guys- but this is something special. 

 

            His eyes trail down over the lithe neck, down to where his collarbone is tauntingly showing, down even farther to where Ignis’ shirt starts to button again. There he sees the necklace. The skull, much like the ones his best friend and bodyguard also have, but smaller. An official symbol of his initiation into the Crownsguard. Noctis remembers putting it on him. His memories cascade back to when they were younger, when the responsibilities seemed so far away, when he hears Ignis clearing his throat. 

 

            “Noct,” Ignis hisses, sounding mildly annoyed.

 

            Noctis looks at him, and then in the direction Ignis’ head is pointed. Two people are talking at the table next to them and if Noctis listens close enough, he can hear the conversation. It’s not one he enjoys.

 

            “Did you hear about the King?” The individual in the sunhat asks. Noctis tenses instantly. Ignis can see it, see the strain in his muscles and the frustration that twists his lips.

 

            “What about him?” The other replies, voice lowering as they lean towards their companion. 

 

            “They think he has some kind of disease,” they whisper. 

 

             _They_. Who’s “they”? No one who has been in the Citadel has released any information like that to the public because there is no information to release. 

 

            “Really?”

 

            “Yes! I heard it’s why he’s aging so fast. All of that hair gone gray in just 10 years! And he’s relying in his cane more and more by the moment.”

 

            Noctis is close to fuming. How dare they spread these stories- these lies- about a king who does so much for them. Did they ever stop to think that the injuries he has suffered over the years and the political tensions he’s had to deal with, all in the name of the kingdom of Lucis and the city of Insomnia, are what causes him to suffer? Not some unnamed disease designed to create a living fiction as if the life Regis Lucis Caelum has led is not fascinating and sorrowful enough. Every year he has to watch his father wither away, piece by piece, one strand of hair and one joint, a victim of injuries gained long ago, at a time. He has nightmares of his father withering to dust in the grand hall, his ashes left on the throne as the hollow wind sweeps through a mourning castle. 

 

            “The poor man,” the other party continues. “After all the things he’s done it’s a shame to end it like that.” 

 

            Ignis watches Noctis as the conversation unravels. His hand grasps his ale bottle so tightly that Ignis is well afraid it might break and he stares at the table hard enough to burn holes in it. Ignis reaches a foot out under the table to tap his shin, snapping Noctis out of his stupor. The adviser’s face remains neutral as he whispers to Noctis to calm down. He needs to practice patience and he needs to know that not all people in Insomnia treat the king with the same level of respect. Royalty is always the enemy for someone and Noctis will need to come to terms with that before he takes the throne. 

 

            The conversation changes topics several times from prices of gas and food to the difficulties of getting through borders. Noctis is supposed to keep a mental tab of all these topics and the opinions on them but Ignis does as well just in case Noctis forgets. As the conversation rolls, the tension leaves Noctis body little by little and his don’t seem strange but instead searching, processing the information he’s hearing and mapping it to certain memories, political leaders, and recent regulations. Once the couple leave, Ignis speaks first. 

 

            “What did you gather from that?”

 

            Noctis takes a deep breath as he leans back in the metal chair. 

 

            “The gist is that the people are generally happy with what they have but they do see room for improvement, especially when it comes to ease of access for certain items and transportation across borders. The political tension between kingdoms right now is also starting to cause sensationalism in everyday conversations. The king needs to watch for rumors and address them before they get out of hand. Also  _His Majesty_ , ” Noctis continues, drawing out the royal title, “needs to address that there is currently no way to make things better but he is in the middle of negotiations. This will give them peace of mind.”

 

            Impressive. “Very good,” Ignis replies, nodding his head. “Don’t forget the other details as well. What kingdoms did they speak of? Any specific names?”

 

            “Lucis, Tenebrae, and Accordo. People mentioned were King Regis, the Fleuret siblings, and Prime Minister Camelia,” he answers, not skipping a beat. 

 

            Ignis smiles, nodding and tapping his fingers lightly on his crossed knee. “Excellent. Now if you could tell that to His Majesty-”   
  


            “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Noctis interrupts, leaning forward and trying his best to ignore the ever familiar tingling that always comes when Ignis praises him. “Can we go do something else now?”

 

            “Do you think they removed the patience from you when you were born?” Ignis asks, snickering lowly. 

 

            Patience. As Noctis scoffs, he thinks of all the times he’s wanted to touch that tan skin. All the times his heart has grown soft by Ignis lending a shoulder for him to sleep on, by Ignis caring for him when he’s sick. So many years he has sat by as Ignis has done his duty: make sure Noctis stays alive. So many years he has sat by, wishing it was something more, all the while staying quiet. 

 

            “I can be patient sometimes,” he retorts. 

 

            “It will be a miracle the day I see such a thing,” he pokes back. 

 

            Noctis’ lips are sealed. That is, until he’s had enough ale to where his feet are lighter but he’s still tripping and his tongue feels like liquid. He doesn’t tell his dirty little secret but he does tell many things- mostly embarrassing stories about their friends and few particular memories that make Ignis go red. At some point Noctis stopped playing the many games available from street vendors and started to walk aimlessly, filling in Ignis on all of the shenanigans he missed while he was in Noctis’ meetings. Ignis would be mad if seeing Noctis tipsy wasn’t so entertaining. Being a good Advisor and friend, when Noctis stops abruptly to tell Ignis he’s hungry, he grabs him food and a nice, refreshing water. They keep walking and Noctis keep talking. Sometimes Ignis pitches in his own story or two but it warms his heart to hear Noctis speak freely. Sometimes the curtness between an Advisor and a prince can be stifling. This is a good change of pace for the moment. 

 

            They make their way through a decently lit back alley, quietly, for the first time in several hours Ignis is sure, admiring the tiny yards decorated with fountains and small chairs and matching tables on concrete porches, twisted black railings leading to the cobblestone their feet make taps on- desperate to look regal in such a tiny space. In the midst of the dazzling science, the only noise being the crowd several yards away from them on either side, Noctis speaks up again. 

 

            “This kinda reminds me of when we used to sneak out of the Citadel. We had to be so careful to avoid everyone. We took so many dark alleyways and secret passages. You wouldn’t think in a place that big that it would be so hard to get out,” Noctis laughs a little as he looks at the sky. “We were hidden from everyone and everything for once. You used to take the blame when we got caught,” he pauses, eyes favoring to scan their feet on the stone. “Thank you for that.”

 

            Ignis hums, unsure of what to say for once in a long time.

 

            “And sorry,” the voice next to him whispers. 

 

            “It has always been my duty to protect you from any and all harm,” he attempts to reassure. 

 

            Noctis shakes his head quickly and opens his mouth as if he were to say something when he trips over one the stones, hands flailing to catch something, anything. Ignis is the first thing he touches, the other making sure to grab his shoulders before anything can hit the ground. Noctis holds onto the space above his elbows tightly. 

 

            “Are you alright, Noct? Should we leave? I think perhaps you have had too much to drink.”

 

            “I’m fine,” he replies, voice sounding tired. “It’s just really dark.” 

 

            Ignis analyzes him slowly, the bit of buzz he has making it harder to gauge whether or not he’s lying or unable to know the truth. 

 

            “Hey, Iggy.”

 

            Noctis snaps him out of his thoughts.

 

            ”I just…” His feet shuffle. “Thanks for everything. You’ve done a lot for me. The cooking and the cleaning. The meetings. Most days I can barely get up, ya know? But I don’t have to worry as much when you’re here. You help me stay focused when I feel like my body’s splitting in fifty directions and you make sure I eat and have a decent place to live in. You’ve helped me with so much over the years even though I’m constantly shitty,” Ignis can hear Noctis’ voice starts shaking and his eyes start watering as he stares through Ignis, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t ever say it enough because I’m not sure how and I’m always afraid I’ll just look stupid or be causing another inconvenience on top of all the other ones I already make but… Thank you. So much. I really don’t know where I’d be without you.”

 

            Ignis feels the vibrations of Noctis’ shaking hands up his arms and through his shoulders. He feels as if something has clutched his heart with a grip so tight he wants to scream. He would have never thought that Noctis would acknowledge how hard things have been for him. Ignis noticed it: not getting out of bed, not eating or cleaning, going out with Prompto and Gladio less and less. He was afraid of it what it might mean or what bringing it up might do, so he never did. Sometimes he regrets it. Sometimes like right now. If he had reached out more, would Noctis harbor less of this guilt? He would do anything to take even some of this pain from Noctis, to keep him from crying out of years of pain and guilt that have built up, to keep him happy. The only thing he can offer is a hug. He wraps his arms around Noctis’ shoulders and Noctis doesn’t pull away, just lets his head fall on Ignis’ chest as he continues to hold onto his arms, mind too absorbed in his own thoughts to comprehend the physically uncomfortable position.

 

            “The apology is appreciated but not necessary,” Ignis replies softly.

 

            Noctis cries but not for as long as Ignis had anticipated. Maybe five minutes pass with Ignis keeping a lookout for passing strangers or wandering eyes before silence falls around them like a thick cloak. Noctis’ breath returns to normal and he takes his hands from Ignis’ arms to wipe at his eyes with his hoodie. Ignis pulls away as well, waiting for Noctis to say something else. He only keeps his eyes on the ground. 

 

            “Come then,” Ignis begins, desperate to lighten the mood. “Let us go to the center to see the fireworks before it is too late.”

 

            Noctis nods and follows him through the rest of the back alley, through the sea of people and into a rather wonderful spot to see the fireworks. They came in an array of colors, Noctis’ favorite being the gradients of blue and green and pink and orange. They were huge and bright, bright enough even to lighten up the face of someone who had been crying just 10 minutes prior. A sense of relief washed over Ignis that caused his muscles to lighten when he saw the joy on Noctis’ face and to hear him laughing in delight. A smile reflected on his face as well, the same one he always had when he knew that, even for a moment, Noctis didn’t have a care in the world. It helped ease some of his own stress, allowed it to wash down his shoulders and meld into the asphalt, and that wonted feeling of warmth to rise in his chest. 

 

            He wasn’t sure when these feelings started. He only knows he would do anything for Noctis and that keeping him safe wasn’t just for the sake of the kingdom but for the Advisor’s as well. He fears he wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t have Noctis. The prince has the smile and laugh of an Astral that always sweeps a wave of tenderness over him like the waves on the beaches of Galdin Quay- light and mesmerizing. Sometimes his thoughts were so lost in the memories of his silken hair and soft yet callused hands, his determined eyes during training, his hidden wits, that Ignis felt like he was suffocating, but the burn in his chest was worth it. Perhaps these feelings were spurned by the undying sense of loyalty that he was taught to have or perhaps the loyalty came from the thousand feelings that no one could ever teach him. There is no denying, however, that the feeling Ignis has as he listens to Noctis talk about how amazing the fireworks were on the drive home from the New Year festivities, is love. As he has known for many years, and as he is reminded time and time again, he is in love with Noctis Lucis Caelum. 

 

            They return to the Citadel and Ignis walks Noctis to the front after they pass through the gates. The night is deafeningly quiet compared to the streets they had just been roaming. As they begin to part ways for the evening, Ignis reminds Noctis that they will be reporting to the king tomorrow. 

 

            “And of course,” he continues, voice softening so that is almost a whisper of the wind. “Sleep well. You’ll need the energy for the year ahead of us.” 

 

_Us_. The word repeats in Noctis’ head like a backtrack. When he enters the Citadel, walks through the empty and quiet halls, and as he lies down in his cool bed. Ignis’ willingness and fervor to be by his side is always astonishing. It’s a comforting thought, comforting enough to lull him asleep quicker than he’s fallen asleep in weeks. 


	2. Feeling

            Noctis awakens to a day of success. King Regis is impressed by Noctis’ recital of the information as well as Ignis’ report on the boy’s behavior and attention to detail. He is so impressed, in fact, that he sends his son and his son’s Advisor on another “adventure” as he enjoys calling them. 

 

            “I believe you going incognito in public is an excellent thing. We can gain more information for the better of the kingdom and you get to leave the Citadel for a while. I’m sure Ignis is tired of sitting in those meetings as well, I assume.” 

 

King Regis looks at Ignis with raised brows as he poses the last bit of his sentence into more of a question. Ignis flushes from the sudden attention.

 

            “Of course not, Your Majesty,” he replies, looking towards the king. “It is my honor to serve the kingdom of Lucis in any manner possible.”

 

            “Eager as always,” Regis comments, looking back to his son. “I want you two to go to the market and see what you goods you can find. Check to see if there are any imports from Tenebrae or Accordo. As always, keep your eyes and ears open.”

 

            “Yes, sir,” they reply in unison. 

 

            The trip is much like yesterday’s extension minus the intoxication. They talk about anything and everything besides royal court matters as not to get caught. They take notes on the conversations of citizens and on imported goods, noting that there isn’t much stock in from Accordo as of recent. It’s an enjoyable time, relaxing among the bustle of people, not having to worry about much other than checking on a few jars and chatting with a few vendors. Their lives for a bit seem normal and almost oddly domestic. Ignis comments on a jar of pickled peppers that he’d like to try and, spectacularly, Noctis finds them and promptly buys them much to Ignis’ surprise and enjoyment. The way his eyes widen makes Noctis laugh as if he were a kid again and for a while he feels free. 

 

            The peppers are used that evening when Noctis and Ignis go to the latters’ house in order to put their notes into a cohesive report. Noctis is careful to avoid them as the two.compile a list. Few goods from Accordo. Everyone wants the new pickled ginger from a little store in Altissia. There isn’t much talk of political drama but no drama is good drama, they suppose. After their lunch, noctis returns to the Citadel, Ignis in tow and ready to take Noctis’ place in another meeting. 

 

            “I’ll go to the meeting, Iggy,” Noctis tells him in a chipper voice. “I’m feeling good today. Maybe it was the sun.”

 

            Ignis’ footsteps halt for a moment, his eyes glancing over to Noctis. “Are you sure about that?”

 

            “Sure. Why not? You’re always doing it. Figured I owed you one.” 

 

            Noctis looks to Ignis’ face contorted in disbelief. “What? Seriously. I’ll do it.”

 

            Ignis nods and looks forward once again. “Since you are so determined,” Ignis begins, handing Noctis a thick briefcase. “You will need this. It contains important documents and notes from previous meetings.”

 

            Noctis nods along as he listens, taking the briefcase in two hands. They find Regis and fill him in, garnering a sense of approval and a statement that their official outings are on hold until further notice. Noctis heads to the meeting after their assembly with the king with no complaint much to both other parties’ amazement. 

 

            Ignis, unsure of what to do with himself, heads to the practice range. To no one’s surprise, Gladiolus is also at the range. 

 

            “Sup, Igs?”

 

            Ignis pushes his glasses up to bridge of his nose. “Feeling a little rusty.”

 

            “Need me to help you loosen up?” He asks, tossing the wooden broadsword over his shoulder.

 

            “If you wouldn’t mind,” he replies, taking a pole from the rack on the wall. 

 

            “You know I’m always ready for a fight,” Gladio taunts, getting into position. 

 

            Training perhaps was his best option on filling his free time. He’s felt the tension in his shoulders increase and his sleeping schedule decline. The adrenaline caused by constant, quick movements makes for an excellent stress reliever and distraction from the current political tensions that he will no doubt have to deal with in-person  _ and  _ in writing. It also gives him time to think. For once, he can think about things other than his chores and the next meal he needs to cook. With one swing towards Gladio’s hip, he thinks about the unimpeded enjoyment Noctis showed in the market today. With another swing to his neck, he thinks about the peppers. He smiles unconsciously as he thrusts the pole at the Gladio’s head, wanting to be back in a scene like that again. Before he realizes it, the air has been knocked out of him, his back is on the ground, and a sword pointed at his chest. 

 

            “Come on, Iggy. What are you doing?” Gladio patronizes as he removes the sword from his chest and reaching out a hand. 

 

            “Apologies,” he replies, taking the hand and coming out from his daze. “I seem to be… distracted.”

 

            “Yeah,” Gladio scoffs. “No kidding. What’s up?” His eyes are suspicious. 

 

            “Nothing important at the moment,” he insists, brushing himself off. “Shall we continue?”

 

            “If you think you can pull yourself together,” he teases. His face suddenly becomes very serious. “But seriously, Iggy. If you need to talk about something, I’m here.”

 

            “And it’s appreciated,” Ignis says, getting back into starting position. “Now let us begin again.”

 

            They spar until Ignis’ arms are weak and he’s drenched in sweat. The ache in his body is always a welcome feeling, a reminder of his hard work. After he showers quickly and changes back into his regular attire, he and Noctis meet up again once the meeting is over, Noctis begging to leave royal grounds, much to Ignis’ amusement. They head to a restaurant for dinner about 20 minutes away- one Ignis frequents when he’s feeling a little overwhelmed- where Noctis proceeds to vent to him about his excruciatingly long and pointless session with other government officials. To save him the trouble and breath, Ignis orders for  them. 

 

            Several months pass like this- of them being together, alone, sharing stories and secrets that no one else would probably ever hear. Noctis brings Ignis Ebony, much to the obvious relief of the latter, and swap opinions about the other royals over paperwork, about the best food and hangouts in Insomnia, the things they would want to do if they weren’t always busy with royal duties, the “ifs” and “buts” they never allow themselves to think of during the day because it causes their hearts too much strife. They have duties, and they always will, but with each other, the load is easier to bear, and the burden doesn’t feel like the world is crushing their shoulders. They spend these weeks closing a gap they never really knew was there. The gap between a prince and his Advisor shrinks down until there is almost nothing, until the weeks progress and they can walk behind closed doors knowing that they will see a friend, not a duty or an innegotiable obligation. What is left is simply honesty, a desire to confide, and the comforting feeling of absolute trust.

 

            Tonight, Ignis is at home alone for one of the first times since the New Year’s festivities. He’s attempting to catch up on paperwork and he thinks, maybe after he’s finished, he can read this book that Gladiolus so desperately wants him to read. In the midst of his thoughts, he hears a knock on his door. A look at the clock tells him it is two in the morning. Odd. He certainly wasn’t expecting anyone and who would be awake at this time. He throws on a sweater over his tank top and puts on his glasses, walking towards the door. He’s quite surprised with what he sees through the peephole: Noctis, face red and arms crossed. He throws open the door and gets a better view of Noctis. His face is indeed red, and wet. His eyes look almost bloodshot and his hair is more of a mess than usual. When Ignis steps back to let Noctis in, he takes the invitation without saying anything. He stands in the middle of Ignis’ apartment awkwardly, wiping his face rapidly. Ignis approaches him slowly, afraid of spooking him.

 

            “What’s wrong, Noctis?”

 

            Noctis attempts to say something but his words come out as stutters and strangling breaths. Ignis comes over to him, heart beating hard in his chest and his entire body tense, gently taking Noct’s arms away from his face. A million awful thoughts and conclusions rush their way to the forefront of his mind. He needs to know what’s going on.

 

            “Noctis. What happened?”

 

            Noctis jerks out of Ignis’ grip and takes a few steps back, using his newly freed arms to hug himself. Ignis stands there, mouth agape.

 

“I…” Noctis sucks in a breath, tears rolling down his face. “It was a… a nightmare.”

 

            Ignis’ shoulders relax a little bit. No one is injured. No one is attacking. Noctis isn’t in danger.

 

            “Would you like to talk about it?” He asks calmly.

 

            Noctis looks over Ignis’ shoulder, eyesight blurry, face scrunched in pain.

 

            “I saw…  _ everyone die _ ,” he whispers.

 

            Ignis’ face softens and his heart twists.

 

            “There was blood. Everywhere. We were ambushed. There was so much noise and it was so hot. I thought I was suffocating. We couldn’t get out. We fought so hard but we just couldn’t… There were too many… I wasn’t strong enough…”

 

            “Noct…” Ignis whispers gently. Noctis whips his head over to stare at Ignis.

 

            “I watched  _ all _ of you die,” he states, his voice gaining volume. “One by one you, Prompto, and Gladio were all shot or stabbed. I was fighting and I looked back and you all got attacked. I saw all of you fight so hard… just to lose. And I couldn’t do a damn thing. Your bodies were almost unrecognizable with all that  _ red. _ ”

 

            Ignis’ stomach drops and he feels queasy. He can almost hear his heart breaking in two.

 

            “And the worst part,” Noctis says, lip quivering along with his slender frame. “When you died, you were in  _ my  _ arms” He grimaces. “I watched as the life leaked out of you. I watched your eyes grow dark. You stopped moving. You were so cold.”

 

            When Noctis looks at Ignis’ face right now, standing in the middle of his apartment, he still sees his glasses stained with blood. He can still imagine the gaping hole in Ignis’ chest from the axe he couldn’t dodge, the burns all over his arms from his magic that went wrong. He can feel the dead weight of Ignis’ head in his hand. He can still hear his cries of pain and his labored breathing as he tries to tell Noctis something. He didn’t get the words out before he died. He could never condemn Ignis to hear or see those things- those awful, horrible things- but he couldn’t let this sit with him alone. It would kill him. 

            “I can’t do that, Iggy. I can’t lose you all. I ca- can’t…” His voice breaks and he can’t stop the tears or the sobs that escape his lips. As Noctis starts heaving in Ignis’ living room, Ignis takes the stride that allows him to wrap his arms around Noctis. He holds on as if his life depends on it- as if Noctis’ life depends on it.

 

            “I’m here, Noct. All in one piece.”

 

            Noctis wraps his arms around Ignis’ waist and cries. He cries so loud the neighbors probably hear him and his body shakes like it’s falling apart. Ignis has never heard this kind of pure anguish come from Noctis- not in the 12 years they’ve known each other. Not even when a daemon attacked him and his father when he was a child. Nothing compares to this. And what is he doing? Giving Noctis a hug just like last time, wishing he could do  _ more _ . Thinking carefully about it for a moment, Ignis slowly, shakily and unsure, cards a hand through Noctis’ hair. Unconsciously, Noctis leans into the touch, surprising Ignis a small bit.

 

            “I can’t.. l-lose you. I can’t,” he says, words getting caught on his sobs.

 

            Ignis leans his cheek onto Noctis’ head and, growing bolder, rubs his back with his thumb in small circles, attempting to provide whatever can reassure Noctis that he is here, truly, totally, and wholly here. The warmth helps Noctis’ muscles ease a small bit and the hand on his back gives him something soothing to focus on.

 

            “It’s okay. I’m here. We’re all okay. It was just a nightmare,” he tries to find the right words but he’s sure none of them will ease the pain as much as Noctis needs. Still, he tries. “I’m here with you.”

 

            Noctis nods into Ignis’ chest, still crying, but not as hard, not as much. His breathing is getting slower and the death grip around Ignis’ waist is loosening. Even as Noctis’ crying stops, Ignis doesn’t attempt to move. Noctis doesn’t move either. They stand there, Ignis’ arms around Noctis, one hand in his hair, one on his back, cheek leaning on his head, and Noctis with his cheek on Ignis’ chest and his arms around his waist. Ignis’ heart beat picks up, afraid that the position they are in will make Noctis uncomfortable, afraid that Noctis can hear his heart beating rapidly because of their mere closeness. Ignis braces himself for Noctis to pull away quickly, to act like it never happened, but he doesn’t. He stays and Ignis can feel his muscles loosen. The next words that come from Noctis’ mouth are simple.

 

           “Thank you,” he whispers. “And sorry if I woke you or anything. And sorry for crying in the middle of your living room. You already have enough stress.”

 

           “No need to apologize. I’m glad you came to me in your distress.”

 

           Noctis nods again. “I should probably go. I’m sure you’re tired.”

 

           Ignis, regretfully, pulls away first. Noctis looks up at him with red and droopy eyes. Salt stains streak his cheeks and he’s still wearing his coat. He’s probably overheated.

 

           “Do you have someone to pick you up?” Ignis is still in his pajamas and exhausted. Him and a car at this hour are not a good idea. 

 

           “I drove.” He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. 

 

           “You are in no state to drive,” Ignis pauses, being careful with what words he chooses to use next. “You can stay here if you wish.”

 

           Noctis looks to the door, chewing his lip, then to Ignis, then to the floor. “If that’s okay with you.”

 

           “Of course it is,” Ignis replies softly. “Let me get you something to clean your face with.”

 

           Noctis sits on the couch, resting his arm on the side, and leans his head on his hand as Ignis quickly goes to the bathroom. He brings back a lukewarm washcloth to Noctis, noticing that the man was practically asleep already. He shakes his head and sits on the couch next to him, tilting his head so Ignis can wipe his face off.

 

           “I can get this, Iggy,” Noctis says, eyes barely open and words slurring.

 

           “Too late for that now,” Ignis says, finishing wiping off the salt. Noctis has already dozed off again by the time the job is done. He shakes his shoulder a bit. “Let’s get you to bed.”

           Ignis helps support Noctis by wrapping an arm around his shoulders, leading him to the bedroom.

 

           “But this is your house,” Noctis grumbles, stumbling a bit.

 

           “I assure you, there is room for two.” His queen size bed was one luxury he allowed himself. They pause at the edge of the bed. “Noct, can you to wake up enough to get this on?” Ignis asks, pulling out a t-shirt and sweatpants for him to wear. Noctis nods slowly, taking the clothes.

 

           “Alright. I’ll leave the room. Call me when you’ve finished.”

 

           Ignis walks out of the door and waits. And waits. He stands there for what is perhaps 10 minutes without so much as a word. Worried, he peeks into the room, only to find Noctis halfway on the bed, sweatpants on, without a shirt or blanket. The sight makes Ignis chuckle though the amusement is laced with pity. He picks up and folds Noctis’ discarded clothes like he has for so many years and, once finished, carefully gets Noctis’ under the comforter. As he strips himself of his glasses, he hopes he did what was right. While taking off his sweater, he hopes he did what needed to be done. While tossing his socks to the floor, he hopes he helped. As he turns off the light and gets under the comforter with Noctis, through his exhaustion, he prays to whatever deity hears him that Noctis sleeps well for the rest of the night.

 

           However, insomnia does not listen to men or gods. Noctis wakes up again confused. It takes him a moment and the body next to his to realize that he is not in his own bed. It takes awhile for him to recollect his thoughts of what happened tonight- the nightmare, the suffocating darkness of his own room, the pacing and debating on who to or where to go, Ignis’ apartment, crying, the comforting, the warm touch of the man he trusts so much- it comes flooding back. It’s overwhelming but when he glances to his side, he sees Ignis. Ignis Scientia, Royal Advisor, always thinking and planning, totally calm and at peace. There are no worry wrinkles to be seen. His hair is down and his breathing is slow. His large frame looks gentle. His shoulders are sprinkled with small freckles, too small to be seen from any distance more than the few inches that separate them. His hair frames his face perfectly, making his features a contradictory- strong and delicate. He remembers the way Ignis held him and listened. He makes Noctis’ heart stutter.

 

           He wants to be closer to him, to feel the heat of his skin again, but he doesn’t want to mess anything up. It’s risky, so risky, and who’s to say that Ignis isn’t helping him like this because he’s a true friend and a loyal Advisor?  There are so many “ifs.” Too many. Noctis can’t do anything too bold- nothing to alarm Ignis, nothing to make him run. Maybe if he just reached out…

 

           And he does. Noctis first reaches out and pinches Ignis’ tank top like a child asking for attention. With an unconfident hand, he moves it higher and lightly wraps his hand around Ignis’ wrist. He’s stiff, worried to wake Ignis, but he doesn’t move. Noctis’ relaxes after a few paces in time and slowly drifts back into a peaceful sleep.

 

           Ignis does not move for the rest of the night. Neither of them does. Instead Ignis wakes up with Noctis hand on his wrist. It surprises him and excites him. Their hands are so close to touching. 

 

If only… 

 

            The thoughts make him shake his head a bit and blush. Such childish thoughts to come from a grown man. But when he sees Noctis’ relaxed face, he can’t help but melt. He needs this. Ignis knows he has problems with sleeping and seeing that he can do it so easily here, thinking that maybe holding onto Ignis helps, it makes his heart swell. Noctis’ hair is in his eyes and grazing his nose. In hopes that the hair doesn’t wake up Noctis’ precious sleep, Ignis carefully tucks as much of Noctis’ hair as he can behind his hair. His touch is feather light and Noctis doesn’t budge an inch.

 

            As much as Ignis is proud of that, and as much as he would love to admire Noctis’ comfortable form, he needs to get up. He desperately needs to pee, brush his teeth, get dressed, and make breakfast. Gently, Ignis lifts Noctis’ wrist with the pads of his fingers and tries desperately to not think about the rush it sends through him. Once successful, he begins to quietly do all the things he needs to. He does his morning routine, adding to out Noctis’ folded clothes next to the bed.

 

            Noctis wakes up to the feeling of warmth on his skin. He soon realizes that, unfortunately, the heat is from the sun and the spot next to him on the bed is empty. The air, however, is filled with the delicious smell of breakfast at Noctis’ stomach and bladder alert him that it’s time to get leave the soft, white sheets and downy comforter. 

 

            After finally putting a shirt on and taming his chocobo hair as much as possible, he walks into the kitchen and is greeted with Ignis putting together two breakfast sandwiches with steak and eggs. 

 

            “Looks great Iggy,” Noctis mumbles, voice still a little hoarse. 

 

            “Thank you,” Ignis replies cheerily. “How did you sleep? I hope the bed was nice to you.”

 

            “More than nice,” Noctis says mid-yawn and stretch. Ignis notices his hip bones peek out from under the borrowed t shirt. “Slept like a baby.”

 

            “Glad to hear it,” Ignis says, handing Noctis his plate. “No need to rush this morning. There’s nothing on your schedule until later this evening and His Majesty already knows your here.”

 

            Noctis sighs in relief at the news and in ecstacy at the food. “Ignis… This is so good. Thank you again.”

 

            “I am told rather often that I’m an excellent cook,” Ignis replies smugly, taking a bite from his sandwich. 

 

            Noctis laughs. “Ya know, I think I might have heard that somewhere before.”


	3. Reaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is a bit short but I felt bad about making the fic one chunk of 9,621 words. Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always always appreciated.

         They continue their days as normal- checking in with the king, training, doing paperwork- but luckily they finish it all early, leaving a day in their schedule open to go to the market, the store, and relax at Ignis’ place. They taste test a few snacks they bought from the store when Ignis restocked on Ebony. They play a game to test Ignis’ taste buds: for each snack Ignis can guess the ingredients for, Noctis will wash a dish. 

         To Noctis’ horror, this is one game that Ignis just can’t lose. As Ignis sits on the couch, gloating slightly over his culinary skills, Noctis plans a way to reclaim his title “Champion of Games.” Ignis doesn’t do too bad at the game, actually enjoying himself and inflating his ego ever slightly. However, knew he could never be any match to Noctis who, with gracious ease, crushed his high score and hopes of being good on at least one game. 

 

         As they yell playfully about who was cheating, their muscles are tense but not out of fear or stress, just friendly anticipation. Noctis tosses chips at Ignis who launches a pillow at his chin, creating a pillow and snack war throughout the apartment. Their hair is a mess, twisted and tangled in every which way. After they’re too exhausted from laughing and running and dodging, Noctis has to help Ignis find his glasses that had been knocked off by a particularly good aim of a gummy worm. When the glasses are found and they survey the catastrophe around them, they put on their favorite music as they clean up their mess and teasingly bicker about who won the fight. Noctis doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ignis laugh that much in one day nor can Ignis remember the last time he had such unadulterated fun. 

As the moon rises in the sky and the night comes closer to a new day, Noctis asks if he can stay the night again. He says it’s because it’s too late and he’s too tired from their battle of food and pillows plus he needs a shower and, of course, Ignis says yes. This time Noctis wears all of his borrowed pajamas and promises that he’ll stay on his side this time. Igns says he doesn’t mind so he doesn’t. He scoots close to Ignis; back, close enough to feel his heat but not close enough to touch, hands tingling with want. It’s not lustful but it is needy. He just wants to feel and to know- know how taunt Ignis’ body is, know how much warmth he really has, how he’ll react. A simple craving for touch. This time Noctis says he’s cold. 

 

         Ignis hesitantly turns around the face Noctis. His face shows nothing except for his eyes. They’re searching for something. Ignis looks at Noctis’ hands, cupped by his cheek on the pillow, and takes them into his own. 

 

         “You certainly do feel chilly,” Ignis mutters, rubbing the hands between his own. 

 

         Noctis remains still. Silent. Thankful. Careful to pay attention to the details of his hands: the texture, the strength, and the gentleness. 

 

         “Would you like a sweater?” Ignis asks after he receives no reply but a nod. 

 

         “I’m okay. Think I’ll just sweat through it at some point,” Noctis answers. “This is good,” he adds, softer. 

 

         Ignis nods, taking the hint, taking the bait that may start the beginning of the end, but he wants to know too. He wants to know what could happen, if there could be more, if things could be better. He needs to know. So he keeps his hands around Noctis’ whispering kind wishes of sleep, and waiting until the morning. 

 

         Their hands are no longer oddly tangled in the morning but instead it’s their arms. Ignis, groggy with sleep and justifying his actions by admitting that he wants this, wants  _ them  _ if Noctis does as well, takes the pad of his thumb to rub Noctis’ elbow until he wakes up. 

 

         “Good morning,” Ignis mummers, eyes focused intensely on Noctis, waiting on a reaction, waiting on the rejection or the acceptance. 

 

         “Morning,” Noctis whispers back, taking a moment to process what’s happening. 

 

         There’s a movement at his elbow and when he looks down he sees the callused hand of his Advisor, calm and careful, hesitating to be more than a whisper of the wind. If he couldn’t count the five fingers on that hand, he would swear he is dreaming. Noctis looks back to Ignis, not pulling away but not moving further. 

 

         “How’d you sleep?” He asks. 

 

         “Undisturbed,” Ignis replies, hand slinking away to rest by his head, left without an answer he can read. “Yourself?”

 

         “Like a baby,” Noctis says, grinning ear to ear, stretching his frame and snuggling back under the covers. 

 

         He asks to stay the night again two days later. He asks the day after that and again and again until there’s an extra toothbrush in Ignis’ bathroom and his fridge is stocked with ingredients and food for two. He stays over enough over the course of two months that Noctis has an extra charger for his portable and his paperwork is on the kitchen counter. He stays with Ignis so often that his extra clothes are in the closet and the drawers and his shoes are in a row by the door. He stays over so much that it’s no surprise when Ignis is seeing him in his living room again, for the fifth day in a row. However, this time he seems disturbed. 

 

         “What’s the matter, Noct?” Ignis asks over a pot of boiling sauce. 

 

         He hears a mumble from the living room but the fan is too loud. Turning it off. He heads to the couch. 

 

         “Sorry. I wasn’t able to hear you.” 

 

         “I said,” Noctis begins to repeat, voice at a higher volume than usual. “Why do you keep letting me do this?”

 

         “Do what, exactly?” Ignis asks in confusion. 

 

         Noctis’ voice is lower and softer when he explains. “Why do you keep letting me stay here?”

 

         “I assumed you wanted to be here,” Ignis replies after a pause. “Is that not the case?”

 

         “No, no, that’s not it. It’s just…” He trails off, eyes wandering the carpet as if the words he needs will reveal themselves in the fibers. “Am I not bothering you? Is my shit everywhere not annoying? My messes and having to cook for two people a problem?”

 

         Ignis chuckles. “I already do those things anyway.” 

 

         Noctis sighs in frustration. “But this is your personal space! It’s different when it’s your own home.”

 

         “It’s a space I’m willing to share,” he replies calmly.

 

         Noctis hangs his head, bang shadowing his eyes, as a knowing silence fills the room. 

 

         “I think the question is: Why do you keep coming back?” Ignis questions. 

 

         Lifting his head, Noctis’ eyes are threatened with tears. His heart is in his throat and he’s thinking of all the things he could say. He could say it all wrong. Maybe he’s thought about this all wrong and maybe Ignis is just being a great friend. Maybe he’s about to ruin something he’ll never get back but he’s already too far. He’s already made the leap; now it’s time to see if he’ll hit the ground. 

 

         “I can finally sleep,” he says, voice cracking. 

 

         The recognition of what the sentence entails is instant for Ignis. Noctis feels safe here. He isn't afraid. He doesn't have nightmares. Ignis is his sanctuary. 

 

         “Then you can sleep here as much as you need,” Ignis tells him, sliding one of his hands into Noctis’. “Or  _ want _ .”

 

         “Thanks,” he says, nodding his head, forever grateful that Ignis knows what he can’t dare to say. Not right now, anyway. 

 

         One day he will tell Ignis the whole truth, that he loves him with an undying ardor, with the strength and secrecy of a riptide that has come with years of trust and memories. However, for now, he sleeps with Ignis by his side, dreaming of nothing, unafraid to close his eyes. 


End file.
